The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

18. Smoke, Fire, and Feathers

Windstreak slept through the afternoon and awoke at midnight. She’d formulated a plan after yesterday’s battle, anticipating a stronger push in the air from the griffons the next day. Together with the Firewings and those Cloudsdale ponies who were still uninjured, she had flown the skies throughout the morning, gathering clouds. They were ready now, for whatever the griffons could throw at them. They’d cooked up a storm unlike any that had come down into the plains for decades. It was a huge raincloud, with enough water to turn the ground to mud and bog down the griffon invasion for days. She waited only for Celerity’s order.

Celerity’s forces on the ground were prepared as well, rested and ready to fight again. She’d rotated the line out through the night, making sure that the bridge was full of ponies to guard against any treachery from the invaders. They were emboldened by the success of yesterday’s defense. The griffons no longer seemed unbeatable. Their numbers meant nothing on the bridge, and with the Firewings to hold the air, the ponies had a real chance to stop the invasion before it could truly begin.

The attack came at dawn. Down on the bridge, the griffon infantry surged up from the south, funneling into the kill zone. The spearponies were ready for them, waiting with their weapons pointed over the shield wall. The griffons crashed against them once again, in a repeat of yesterday’s attack. The ponies repulsed them again, driving their spears into the mob.

Above the battle, Windstreak and the air forces took to the skies, prepared for the griffons to come screaming up at them. But to their surprise, they remained unchallenged. No griffons left the ground. The Firewings and Cloudsdale pegasi hung in the air, puzzled.

On the bridge, the slaughter continued. At times, the griffons threatened to overwhelm the defenders through sheer numbers, but the earth ponies held their ground. The corpses of the base griffon infantry littered the bridge, creating a hideous tableau of war. Behind the lines, Celerity frowned. This wasn’t like Shrikefeather. She’d studied his campaigns in the south over the last hundred years. He was smarter than this. Why would he keep sending his troops to die against her wall? The only thing it could accomplish was to tire out her men…

Which might be the point. Celerity had a sudden, paranoid suspicion. The frontliners were due to begin changing out in five minutes. If Shrikefeather was thinking along the same lines that she now was…

“Reinforcements to the front! Now! I want that line shored up immediately!” Celerity’s voice carried over the racket of battle, magically amplified. Ponies struggled through the mass of soldiers on the bridge, trying to reach the front to aid their kinsmen. Celerity watched with bated breath, waiting for Shrikefeather to make his move. The shrieks of dying griffons carried over the bridge, and the smell of blood and smoke filled the air.

Wait. Smoke?

Celerity turned to look back to the north, and nearly had a heart attack. The camp was on fire. Great columns of black smoke were rising up from the rear, drifting in the wind. She stared aghast as the flames consumed the tents, leaping into the air. Behind her came a great shout. Returning her vision to the bridge, she witnessed the line of the griffons fold back on itself, and from the ranks of their infantry strode the maulers.

They were fearsome griffons clad in full plate armor, with huge maces held in their hands. They carried no shields, and were too heavy to fly, for they had only one purpose: to crush their way through the enemy before he could even attack. They were massive, twice the height of a pony, whirling their weapons around to pick up momentum. They charged against the wall of ponies, who were already spent from nearly thirty minutes of fighting. The spears were smashed aside, and the great maces crashed into the shield wall. Wood broke, and shields shattered. Splinters flew through the air, followed by the unfortunate soldiers who felt the maulers’ crushing blows.

Windstreak heard the cry from one of the Cloudsdale ponies. “Look! The camp!” Heads turned all across the sky, looking down at the fire that was rapidly spreading out of control. Windstreak called out to her troops. “Everypony! Hurry! Break off the storm, we’re changing tactics. Use the clouds to put out the fires! Save the food supplies!” In the skies, thousands of pegasi beat their wings north to the huge storm they had prepared the night before.

They had planned to use it to disrupt the griffon’s air units, but they needed it for a more pressing purpose now. Each pegasus flew into the cloud, grabbed a chunk, and zoomed back toward the camp. Windstreak reached inside and wrapped her teeth around a particularly fluffy cloudlet, then raced off. By the time they had returned to the camp, the fire had completely consumed the Westermin tents. If it destroyed the food supplies, the Equestrians would be forced to retreat north. There was no way they could hold out long enough to get enough food to feed the army from Whitewall. The journey was nearly a week long, on hoof and dragging heavy carts. If they lost the supplies, the battle would soon follow.

Windstreak neared the edge of the inferno. The air was blisteringly hot, but it made flying easy. She could ride the thermals, saving her energy for the dousing process. It had been a while since she’d done any serious weatherforging, but she still remembered the basics. Positioning her cloud above one of the tents, she bucked hard and cracked her hooves into it. Rain poured out, falling into the blaze. She braced for a second kick, when suddenly something hit her from the side.

She found herself grappling with a griffon, a great brown-feathered and helmeted thing. It shrieked in her ears, slashing at her with the blades on its claw. Her hooves were pinned to her sides, and her wings were trapped by the griffon’s tail. Windstreak used the only weapon available, and bashed her helmet into the griffon’s beak. It was stunned, and they fell locked together toward the fire.
They crashed through the roof of the burning tent, bringing down the entire structure. Windstreak felt like she was in an oven, the blistering heat threatening to overwhelm her. The griffon in front of her stood, roaring at her. How had a griffon gotten this far behind their lines? She tried to fly away, to get out of the heat, but the griffon flew after her, sinking its talons into her armor. The sharp battleclaws dug deep, catching in the metal. She bucked at the griffon, kicking it in the head, but it just roared again. She couldn’t fly—she couldn’t get out—the fire was everywhere—

A golden streak rocketed in from the smoke. Bergeron plunged into the fire, knocking the griffon away. “Come on, Captain!” he shouted, taking flight. “Let’s get out of here!”

The two of them raced upward, trying to escape the blaze. The griffon came after them, still trying for blood. His claws had rent Windstreak’s armor open in the back, and it was difficult to fly. The ruined armor kept obstructing her wing movement. She flapped frantically, trying to get some distance. “Bergeron! Split-loop!”

The other pegasus nodded, breaking off his flight and looping to the left. Windstreak went right, soaring around. The griffon chose to go after her, hoping to finish off the pony he’d already weakened. She pulled an incredibly tight turn, and the griffon stayed with her. He was so concentrated on staying on her tail that he missed Bergeron streaking in from the other side of the circle he and Windstreak had created. Bergeron smashed into the griffon head-on, driving his armored hoof straight into the griffon’s face and shattering its beak.

The griffon went limp, and fell back into the smoke. Bergeron flew up to his captain. “Are you alright, ma’am?” he shouted over the roar of the fire.

“I need to get my armor off!” Windstreak took off for the sky, with Bergeron close behind. They pulled away from the smoke, flying upward. “Where did he come from?” demanded Windstreak.

“I’m not sure—they haven’t lifted any troops off all day—”

But Windstreak soon realized the truth. As they flew, she looked down at the pegasi still trying to quench the fire. From the smoke, griffons were emerging and attacking, catching the ponies by surprise. Dozens had already fallen, and the fires continued to rage out of control. She now knew the cause of the flames, and the lack of resistance in the skies today. The griffons had flown wide around the ponies during the night, going far abroad to avoid the patrols of pegasi. Sneaking on the ground under cover of darkness, they had infiltrated the camp while the attack at the bridge began, and set fire to the tents.

On the ground, Celerity was frantically ordering those ponies not immediately engaged with defending the bridge to gather water from the river and run it back to camp. Using buckets, helmets, and whatever else they could scrounge up, the soldiers of Whitetail found themselves acting as impromptu firefighters. The situation on the bridge was dire, as the maulers continued smashing their way through the pony lines. So far they had been repelled by a swift response from the reinforcing spearponies, who quickly brought their weapons to bear against the brutish griffons. But they were paying for every foot of the bridge with dozens of ponies, feeding bodies into the meat grinder of the maulers’ maces, and the line was falling back.

And now she had another problem. From across the river, flights of griffons were lifting into the air, carrying large sacks in their claws. They flew over the river, heading toward the bridge from the east and west. Celerity roared angrily: “Where is my air support?” She looked back at the camp, now half-consumed in the fire. The pegasi were trying to put out the fires using the clouds, but somehow a massive force of griffon commandos had sneaked in behind her lines, and they were ambushing the Cloudsdale ponies! How the hell had this slipped past her? She’d been terribly mistaken. Shrikefeather was much smarter than she’d given him credit for.

The griffon attack wings opened their sacks. They withdrew small, black spheres, and began flying over the bridge and throwing them down at the ponies below. The primitive firebombs exploded on impact, devastating the Westermin ponies. Great holes appeared in the line, and Whitetail troopers surged into the breaches to stop up the gaps. The slaughter had turned the other way, and dozens of her troops fell as every minute passed.

Above the camp, Windstreak struggled with the clasp of her armor. The heat had fused the soft gold clip together with the chain, and she couldn’t get it off. “Bergeron! Help me.” Her lieutenant was instantly at her side, grabbing the offending chain and pulling as hard as he could. Together, they put enough force on it to break the link, and Windstreak shrugged out of her breastplate. It fell to the ground far below. She flapped her wings comfortably again, no longer protected but back to full flying capability.

“Look!” Bergeron pointed to the south, where the ponies at the bridge found themselves besieged from the air.

“We have to keep the skies clear!” Windstreak flew back down toward the inferno, where the pegasi had begun to fight back against the griffons. They clashed in the smoke, hooves and claws drawing blood and breaking bone. The griffons would latch onto the ponies and drag them down into the fire, sacrificing themselves to destroy their enemies. It was the mark of an insane, elite group, indoctrinated and shaped for one purpose: the destruction of the air forces of Equestria. Windstreak didn’t know who these griffons were, but it was clear that they had to be stopped.

Even more important was the bridge. The line had faltered. The griffons had nearly pushed the ponies off to the other side. The firebombs were shattering their ranks, breaking the formations apart. Celerity, in the midst of the chaos, reacted as quickly as she could. The Firewings and Cloudsdale pegasi were busy in the rear of the camp, and she had no fliers to take out the bombers. So she did the next best thing.

“Mages!” Celerity’s magically amplified voice boomed over the battle. “I need every unicorn at the line! Take out the fliers!”

Spells flew through the air, lightning crackling and fireballs searing the sky. The griffons retaliated, some abandoning the bridge to drop their firebombs on the unicorns. When the griffons fell, their entire stockpile would detonate, blasting a huge hole in the ground and sending anypony unlucky enough to be caught in the explosion flying.

Windstreak dashed after every golden-armored pony she could find. “Firewings! We must defend the bridge!” They slowly left the fight below, leaving the Cloudsdale pegasi to fight against the griffons. Some still flew clouds over the campsite, trying to douse the fires. The flames had completely destroyed Westermin’s camp, and had spread to Whitetail’s. Lines from the river ferried buckets of water to the fire, and the ponies struggled to keep the blaze under control.

The Firewings pulled away from the camp, returning to the river. The huge flight of the remaining three hundred elite pegasi swooped into the fray. The firebomb squads were not armed for an aerial battle, and were ill-suited to face the best fighters in Equestria. The Firewings streaked down like avenging angels, ripping apart the bombing wings. Cheers went up from below.

“Mages! I want spells on the bridge, now! Take out those maulers!” Celerity’s face was lined with tension, but inside she smiled. Not today, Shrikefeather.

The unicorns blasted the maulers with thunderous spells. Magic exploded across the bridge, blowing away chunks of stone. Griffons tumbled through the air, into the river. The Whitetail troops poured onto the bridge, wielding their hoof-maces and trampling over the maulers. Slowly, the tide was turning.

But the camp was a disaster. The Cloudsdale ponies were unable to fight both the fires and the griffons. They fell by the score, bodies raining down into the fires. The griffons were slaughtering them wholesale, their sharp talons more than a match for the unarmored pegasi.

Windstreak and Bergeron swooped through the smoke, searching for the leader of the commandos. “He’s probably the biggest one,” coughed Windstreak, choking in the ash. All around them, pegasi and griffons tangled in midair, and the sound of thunderclouds boomed incessantly.

“There! The big black one.” Bergeron put as much power behind his wings as he could muster. Windstreak followed him closely. They streaked toward the huge griffon and his guards, two other hulking brutes. He saw them coming, and vanished into the smoke. His guards flew up to confront the Firewings.

“Go for the one on the right!” shouted Windstreak, and they dived into battle. They both collided with the griffon, Windstreak driving into its stomach and Bergeron into its head. The one-two punch shattered the guard’s spine, and it flopped limply in midair as it began the long fall toward the ground. The other dived onto Bergeron, locking its claws around his neck.

“Go! Get the captain! I’ll deal with this!” Bergeron shoved a hoof on the guard’s face, trying to push it away. Windstreak moved to help, but Bergeron shook his head. “You’re going to lose him! Go! I’ll be fine!” Windstreak nodded to her lieutenant, and blasted off into the smoke.

The cloud was dark and burned her eyes, but Windstreak had flown through worse. She listened for the tell-tale mix of roars and bird shrieks that constituted the Gryphan language. She burst out of the smoke suddenly, finding herself on the edge of the camp. In front of her, a Cloudsdale pegasus was flying around a griffon commando, deftly evading its claws. Another pegasus, unseen by the griffon, had dragged a cloud above them. She bucked it hard, and a lightning bolt breached the air. It struck the griffon full-on, frying it instantly and fusing its helmet to its head. The griffon fell without a sound.

Windstreak turned back into the smoke. Cut off the head, and the body will die. She had to find the griffon captain. There! A dark shape in the ash, black-on-black. She soared after it, coming out of the cloud and diving into the form.

Captain Withers was a huge griffon, one of the largest of his kind. Each of his claws was large enough to crush a pony’s head inside, and he was monstrously strong. He grabbed for Windstreak, trying to snatch her neck and bring the battle to a swift end. She dodged deftly, swooping underneath him. His tail lashed out, catching her in the face and sending her flying aside. He swooped after her, roaring in broken Equestrian.

“YOU ARE MINE, PONY!”

“Come and get me!” Windstreak vaulted away from the griffon, doing an aerial somersault and bashing into him with her hooves. The griffon didn’t even flinch, bringing his huge claws down to rip her in half. She rolled away, flapping her wings. The griffon’s eyes were red gleams of light beneath his helmet, little beady orbs that glared at Windstreak with murderous intent. He flared his wings and came after her, shooting through the air like a force of nature.

But her name wasn’t Windstreak for nothing. She zipped away, daring him to follow her. He pursued, giving chase to the infuriating pegasus that had thwarted his commandos’ every move. She took him on a wild flight, diving into the smoke and out again. She flew low, into the inferno. She crashed through one of the burning tents, plunging out of the other side. He dodged the wreckage as the tent collapsed, sending up another plume of ash into his face. He snarled, blinking it away.

He followed her through the fire, the smoke, and the open air. Windstreak led him around the campsite, carefully watching her position. She dived into another cloud. He followed, his great wingbeats sounding like a war drum. “YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME, PONY.”

“I’m not trying to!” shouted Windstreak. She flew out of the cloud, and turned her head to see it explode behind her as the griffon captain blasted out of it. He roared again, and Windstreak yelled “Now!”

The griffon had just enough time to look down and see that the pegasus had drawn him all the way south over the main force of ponies, before the unicorns below sent enough magic his way to kill thirty griffons. Fireballs, lightning bolts, and blades of wind smashed into Captain Withers, obliterating him completely.

Windstreak sighed with exhausted relief. As she pulled out wide around the campsite, she could see in the distance the griffons retreating from the bridge. The line held. Below, the fires at the camp were slowly coming under control. With their leader dead, the directionless commandos soon fell to the Firewings and the Cloudsdale pegasi.

She landed next to Celerity, who had shouted herself hoarse throughout the long battle. She trotted wearily up to the duchess. “The day is ours, ma’am.”

Celerity gave her a broad smile. “We did it. We beat the bastards back. Thanks to you and the rest of the Firewings.”

“Is it over, then?”

“For today. Shrikefeather won’t try again so soon after a beating that bad.” Celerity laughed, a hollow, tired sound. “He’ll need a miracle to break through this line.” She looked exhausted.

“Duchess, perhaps you should get some rest.”

“Later,” said Celerity. “I need to check on the food supplies and get an accounting of our losses. The damage reports should be done by the end of tonight.” She sighed wearily. “We can’t take much more of this. But Shrikefeather’s army isn’t infinite. If he overruns the cost in horse-er, griffonpower that he’s willing to lose, he’ll pull back. The griffons would rather try for another spot on the river than continue throwing troops away against us.” She frowned. “If worst comes to worst, we’ll destroy the bridge. But Shrikefeather cannot be allowed to have it.”

Windstreak nodded, tired from the fight. “Goodbye for now, Duchess. I need to speak with the Firewings.”

She lifted off and began scanning for the gold that signified a member of her unit. There they were; they had formed a small group on the edge of the campsite, where the Cloudsdale pegasi were now extinguishing the last of the fires. She swooped in, landing next to her fellow ponies. “Bergeron! Is Bergeron here? Is he alright?”

“I’m here, Captain!” Bergeron broke through the ranks. He was missing his helmet, and he’d acquired a wicked slash across his face. It was no longer bleeding, but it was clearly causing him a great deal of pain.

“Bergeron! Thank the Sisters you made it.” Windstreak felt glad for the first time that day. “Why aren’t you in the infirmary? You need to get that wound treated.”

He shook his head. “After my report, Captain.”

“Quickly, then. You shouldn’t endanger yourself like this.”

He laughed. “It’s not as bad as it looks, trust me.” He winced. “Well… at least, I think so.”

“Bergeron…”

“Right. We’ve pushed them back. Any griffon commandos that escaped have fled back across the river. We cleared out most of them. We figure there were about three or four hundred of them. How they managed to sneak into camp, I’ll never know, but they sure did a lot of damage.”

“Any report yet on that?”

“Westermin’s camp is completely torched. All of their supplies and sleeping quarters are gone. But they’ll be able to share Whitetail’s. There… there are a lot of empty sleeping pallets after the battle on the bridge, today.” They were both silent for a moment.

“Food?”

“Thankfully they missed the main grain stores. We’ll not be going hungry.”

Windstreak gave a relieved breath. “What were our losses?”

Bergeron was grim. “Too many. We lost around three hundred from the Cloudsdale units to the griffons. Nearly a hundred more died trying to put out the fires. On the bridge, the Westerminners took a beating. No firm numbers on the casualties yet, but at least four hundred of them. It was a complete massacre. As for the Firewings… we lost some good ponies today. Ingrid. Gennovir. Derek. Gerald. Nearly four dozen all told.” Windstreak felt the euphoria of their victory drain away. “Several others were injured severely. About thirty are in the infirmary with serious burns. Some… are expected to survive. Fifty-two with non-serious injuries. We took a beating out there today, Captain.”

“They did their duty, Bergeron. We won’t forget them.”

“I know, ma’am.”

“Get to the infirmary and get that wound looked at.”

“I doubt they’ll have time, Captain. The nurseponies are overloaded as is—”

“That’s an order, lieutenant.”

“I… yes, ma’am.”

* * *

The sky was blood-red as the sun disappeared over the western horizon. General Shrikefeather was furious.

“Explain to me again, how a bunch of untrained weatherponies managed to defeat the best aerial strike force in my army?”

“Sir,” stammered the colonel. “They were outnumbered almost five to one—”

“It’s their job to be outnumbered. If I can’t trust my commandos to be bloody commandos, then how am I supposed to do my job?”

“Sir, Captain Withers was certain that they could accomplish the mission—”

“Captain Withers was an imbecile. He has already paid for his mistakes with his life. Pray you don’t do the same.”

“Sir!” squeaked the colonel. “We dealt the ponies a heavy blow today! They don’t have nearly our numbers. If the battle tomorrow goes as badly for them as today’s, then—”

“You feather-brained idiot. They won today; don’t pretend any differently. We can’t keep throwing troops away against Celerity’s damn bridge line.” He snarled. “It’s those pegasi in the golden armor. They’re the ones who smashed the firebombing teams to bits. They’re the ones who organized the Cloudsdale pegasi into the weather teams to put out the fires. We need to break them, swiftly and decisively.”

The colonel nervously shifted his balance. “Sir, there’s always the backup plan.”

The general narrowed his eyes and put his claw to his beak. “Hmm.” He’d hoped to avoid playing that card so soon in the campaign, but it was beginning to seem like the most expedient option.

“How long?”

“By noon tomorrow, at the earliest. Most likely not until later in the day.”

“Just barely fast enough to fit into our timetable. Very well. We’ll push tomorrow to keep them on their toes. Have the aerial units hold back, I don’t want to waste any more of them than necessary.”

“Very well, General, sir.”

“And then on Monday, we’ll put the backup into motion.” He sneered. “I always enjoy starting the week off on a high note.”

Comments

[Zervziel]

Why am I thinking Dragons? Is it because I played too much Warcraft 2?

[DSNesmith]

I apologize for the state of things at the moment. Consider the fic under construction until the end of the week. There are plot holes and missing information ALL over some of these middling chapters due to some poor writing. I'll keep updating for the people already reading but I hope to have the rest of the fic up to quality standard by Thursday at the latest.

[Thread Necromancer]

Holy shit, gunpowder! I'm hype!

[PaulAsaran]

Well, that was brutal. I'm rather surprised it went as well as it did. I'm still 100% expecting both Windstreak and Celerity to be captured or dead by the end of this fight.

One thing keeps bugging me: there are times when the POV of the story seems to shift abruptly and without warning, such as when it jumped from Windstreak to Celerity and back at around the time the firebombers showed up. It's jarring and unpleasant and I wish it would stop happening.

Regardless, excellent battle scene. I hope there are people taking notes out there. can't wait for the giants to show up (note my confidence).

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

Oh that was an epic battle!

[SWEETOLEBOB18]

They were fearsome griffons clad in full plate armor, with huge maces held in their hands. They carried no shields, and were too heavy to fly, for they had only one purpose: to crush their way through the enemy before he could even attack. They were massive, twice the height of a pony, whirling their weapons around to pick up momentum. They charged against the wall of ponies, who were already spent from nearly thirty minutes of fighting. The spears were smashed aside, and the great maces crashed into the shield wall. Wood broke, and shields shattered. Splinters flew through the air, followed by the unfortunate soldiers who felt the maulers’ crushing blows.

You're fighting an enemy in METAL armor? I'd try lightning.

[Draco Dei]

4879634
Agreed on the sharpness of the point of view transitions I think...